


Three Houses Ficlets

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Drama, Feelings, M/M, Realizations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: Archive of request and prompt responses that are under 1000 words and don't fit elsewhere! Non-continuous. See Chapter titles for pairings.





	1. Linhardt/Caspar - Elegance

Linhardt wasn’t particularly interested in the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach. He would never serve the military and even his father, who struggled with his name if he’d had a drink, knew him well enough to question his desire to go. I want to use the library wasn’t good enough. Similarly, I want to study from Professor Hanneman, the Father of Crestology wouldn’t pass muster. With planning and skilled execution that no one would ever accuse Linhardt of, he said simply, “Caspar will be there.”

They keys to a good lie were to say as little as possible and to stay as close to the truth as possible. Caspar would be there. Linhardt did want to be near Caspar. He did not, however, want to constantly test his mettle against Caspar and prove von Bergliez to be a waste of space and a family of blowhards that murdered their way to their inheritance. But people believed what they wanted to believe, so the lie worked and he packed his things in preparation.

At least, he intended to pack his things. For every three of his own things that went into the solid trunk was one of Caspar’s things. An undershirt here, a training weigh there. When he packed the lavender cream that was the only thing to heal the cracks in Caspar’s callouses, Linhardt sat back on his heels and looked around his bedroom.

Everything bore Caspar’s mark. His thick feather pillow had a lock of cyan hair mixed with the down “To protect you from nightmares, duh.” The furniture had scars from banged knees and foreheads and the one memorable time Caspar broke his own nose on the bedside table. The bottom of the bedframe had an elaborate, meaningless, useless, sigil that supposedly protected them from lightning. Lodged into the back of his armoire was a tailored travelling cloak with the Bergliez coat of arms. 

As Lindhart sat on the lid of his trunk, trying to force it closed over his and Caspar’s things he blinked. He didn’t feel… exhausted, or exacerbated about all of the extra things he had to pack. That wasn’t usual. Everything made him weary. Really, the only explanation was that Caspar was such a deep and intrinsic part of his life that he had long ago accepted this to be the state of things.

Hmm, that was too many words. Surely there was a more elegant way of…

Ah, yes.

He  _ loved _ Caspar.


	2. Ferdinand/Hubert - Coffee Shop AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dani!
> 
> This fic takes place in the same universe as [Curses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081320), but it is by no means necessary reading! It is future-Fodlan where Crests fell out of favor after the Unification War.

Albeania’s Best was actually a Morfin company. Ferdinand knew because he was applying for the manager position that opened up when Byleth accepted a full time position at Garreg Mach University. If he got the position, he’d be able to transition into being a full time student at the same university. Four years of attending one class a term was wearing him down, so he was doing everything possible to land the promotion. Not that a political science degree would do him much good as an orphan with a cursed name, but he had terrible taste.

The second best example of it just walked in the door, in fact.

Hubert, whose name was cursed by association, was tall, dark and… Well, skinny? If pressed, Ferdinand, Fred to strangers, would say that it was the jade green eyes that saw too much or the tongue that cut too deep. Oh no. Don’t think about the tongue. No, no, argh. Color flooded his cheeks as Hubert approached the counter.

“I take it you still haven’t tried the latest dark roast out of Brigid.” Hubert smirked and it was close enough to a smile that it added a year onto Ferdinand’s life. 

Ferdinand leaned against the counter, trying to look suave, but his elbow slipped and he had to catch himself with a loud slapping of both arms. He cleared his throat. “I don’t see the need when I have a connoisseur such as yourself to give me a most accurate review.”

“I speculate that you are lying simple to secure another tea-and-coffee date with me.” The smirk turned into a smile. Ferdinand might just die happy.

Despite his near-immortal status in the wake of the smile, Ferdinand clapped a hand over his chest. “I would never lie to you. I speak with the utmost veracity at all times!”

“You work in a coffee shop.”

“Yes, well… Needs must, when one’s parents… Nevermind. The usual?”

Hubert reached across the counter and stroked his cheek, wiping the maudlin expression away. “Please. And you, on your break.”

“That’s part of the usual, you know.”

“Of course. My mistake.”


	3. Linhardt/Caspar - Cursed Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dani!
> 
> This is the same universe as [Curses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081320) and chapter 2 of this fic, the coffee shop AU.
> 
> Also, Happy Birthday, Lin!

Linhardt was rather fond of his cursed name. It meant that his peers left him alone and no one bothered questioning his research at the library. Obviously he would look into Crests, had you heard his name? It also meant that when the Crest of Cethleann appeared on his shoulder after weeks of experimentation, no one questioned it. Which said more about them than him. Anyone who thought he would willingly subject himself to a tattoo needle had never met him. Not that he had trypanophobia, but still.

All in all, he didn’t mind the curse. Magic was interesting to study, sure, but crestology! The lost field! He had particular interest in his namesake’s works. The original Linhardt von Hevring had, apparently, not published any of his own works and instead let them be handled by someone else posthumously. He’d never related to someone so much in his life.

“Linhardt! Happy Birthday!” Caspar jumping on his back nearly made him crack his nose on the table.

Without pushing him off, Linhardt checked his mobile. “Ah, yes, it is my birthday. Thank you.”

Caspar blew a raspberry in his ear. “That’s it? Come on! Let’s go have a nice dinner!”

Like being left alone, Caspar was another benefit of his cursed name. The original Lindhardt had written about his travels with one Caspar von Bergliez, so he had searched for his own Caspar. If his was loud, boisterous and a little stupid, it was okay, because he was strong, loving and considerate. Even if he did constantly interrupt his research.

“I tried to make you cupcakes, since they’re easier to eat than a whole cake, but they exploded, so you’re going to have to clean the oven tomorrow.”

Linhardt smiled, closed his book and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. “We can go to the Morfin barbeque, just be sure to watch your macros.”

“Yeah!”


	4. Hubert/Ferdinand - Hurt/Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Bohemienne!

Hubert von Vestra, as a rule, did not get sick. He had duties, responsibilities and matters that could not be paused while he lazed around in bed drinking whichever horrific tisane Ferdinand insisted would cure everything. The millennium festival was fast approaching; Hubert was busy at all hours keeping the unworthy from approaching Lady Edelgard in order to beg her attendance at their side. One did not ‘ask out’ the future Emperor of Adrestia, something these uncultured fools seemed to forget under the thin guise of equality at the Officers’ Academy. Equality. Pah, as if anyone could be her equal.

However, it seemed no one had informed the dolt of Aegir that Hubert did not get sick. 

Ferdinand blocked his door with all of the blinding, orange radiance that somehow came from more than just his hair. Legs shoulder-width apart and hands on his hips, Ferdinand did his best to look like an imposing guard and not like the knobbly-kneed foal he was. “I see you have already wasted your energy getting dressed, Hubert. But worry not! I won’t tell Edelgard that you attempted to go against her explicit instructions to stay in bed and recover.”

Hubert didn’t sniff. He didn’t; he simply willed his nose to forget all about its running agenda through the power of sheer intimidation. Narrowing his eyes made them itch with what was absolutely-not-hay fever, but through strength of mind he did not rub them. He didn’t dignify von Aegir with words; he simply grabbed him by the shoulder and- and… And failed to fling him out of the way. “Move.”

“I am under strict instructions not to let you exert yourself. Though I’m sure it was in jest, Edelgard even suggested that I sit on you should you attempt to leave.” Color touched the apples of Ferdinand’s cheeks and he couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“I have my-” Hubert was interrupted by the violent, completely involuntary expulsion of his stomach contents. He would not go so far as to praise von Aegir’s reflexes, but he was… somewhat… glad that the mess was caught in his bin and not sprayed across his room.

Ferdinand set the bin on the floor and used all of his cavalier’s muscles to march him back to his bed. “Yes, you have your duties and your duties for today are to rest.”


	5. Hubert/Ferdinand - Magic Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Decas

“Ferdinand.”

He stands outside Hubert’s door, a parcel in hand and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. In true von Aegir fashion, his presence pushes its way inside before Hubert invites him and true to the new madness in his blood, he allows it, stepping back and aside.

“I apologize for cancelling our afternoon meeting-” he begins, only for Ferdinand to interrupt.

“Casual tea between friends is hardly a meeting.”

Hubert barrels on regardless. “It is by no means a commentary on the quality of the roast you acquired for me.”

“Acquired for!” Ferdinand laughs and it’s like sunshine in the middle of the night. “It was a gift. For you.”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” He clears his throat and sits behind his desk. “If not… tea… then what brings you here at this hour?”

“Ah, yes, well…” Ferdinand unwraps the parcel and places it on Hubert’s desk, carefully avoiding the papers and brick-a-brack with the squat jar. “Caspar spilled wine on your gloves last week during dinner.”

Throat thick with unsaid words, half-choked by feelings less than half understood, Hubert tells Ferdinand to continue with a gesture.

“You left the dining hall to change your gloves. You had carried a spare set with you; I know because you weren’t gone more than a moment and that’s when I realized it. You, Hubert, never let Edelgard see your hands.  _ They _ are one of the secrets you’re keeping from her.”

Holding them out over his desk, Hubert turns his hands over between them. “They are hands the same as any other.”

“I’ve seen them without your gloves. When isn’t important.” Color warms both his cheeks and he speaks quickly to keep Hubert from questioning him. “I’ve seen them and I inquired with Linhardt as to what could cause such a… condition. He was,” Ferdinand sighs dramatically and leans into the space between them, “himself about it, of course, but in between technical explanations and rolling his eyes at my ignorance prepared this cream for you.”

“For me.” He can’t decide if it’s a question.

“Whether or not you can slow your efforts, you will not.” He pushes the jar closer to Hubert. “This will slow the… degeneration.”

The jar burns Hubert when he takes it by the lid, though it’s not his fingers that blister. “This is… Very thoughtful of you.”

“And you should think nothing of it. It is the least I can do.” And then Ferdinand is gone, his presence as brief and comforting, scalding, as a summer wind.


End file.
